Highway
by Boring-Seminars
Summary: Marshall Summers. The girl who only normally thinks about herself, and tries her best to ignore her family... until they come back. After a series of events brings to reality a world more dangerous than her own, she is forced to make and break promises, and struggle to con some of the most dangerous antagonists known to fiction... who, in reality, shouldn't even exist. Slight AU.
1. Prologue- Ruination

**Disclaimer- I don't own Resident Evil, or the characters, or the plots, or anything to do with that particular franchise.**

**Just an idea for a fanfic I had… it's 'AU' in a way, for obvious reasons. Rating may go up! Don't hate me for this if you don't like it… I tried, I really did. This is only the prologue, and chapter one actually takes place before the prologue. But I'm pretty sure people could figure that out…**

**This is written in first person, from the view of my OC 'Marshall Summers'. If this changes, I'll let it be known.**

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**Prologue**

The concrete road was hard. One of the things I thought at that moment, as well as the fact that I didn't want to die on a highway in the US.

This particularly highway was new, so it was slick and black. Hot from the summer heat and the multiple tires that passed over it every day. And don't get me wrong, I didn't have anything against the US, but as a Canadian, a part of me always thought that I would die when I was really old, after settling down in a nice home in Canada.

I wondered briefly how I ended up here though, so far from home, laying on my stomach in the middle of the road. I suppose the straight answer would be the most obvious; I crashed. Well, not me, but I was in the passenger seat. And I stupidly didn't wear my seatbelt… but given the circumstances, it was reasonable enough.

"Summers." _Summers, Summers, Summers._ Someone's voice calls out to me, but I don't pay it any mind.

Seeing as I was going to die, the living didn't matter to me anymore, right?

"Summers…" The voice got closer, and it brought the ghost of a smile on my face. But, even as felt the muscles move like I never had before, pain flared. It covered my cheeks and lips, moving across my face, and it was then that I noticed the headache. It felt like someone was driving an icepick into my brain.

"Shit… Summers…" the voice was coming from right beside me, so I tried my best to turn me head and open my eyes. Pain once again traveled through my neck, down my back, reaching my limbs. I felt warm moisture on the ground.

I wasn't stupid. I realized it was probably my own blood.

But I still couldn't find myself to care. If I did think about the blood, the pain, the blackness that covered my vision, I realized one final truth.

I was going to die.

I didn't want to die.

Sure, nobody wants to die. But some people didn't deserve to die. Some people had a real gift to offer the world.

I wasn't one of those people. Especially during the most recent times. Betraying my family, and the people I had met… I had probably proved I didn't deserve life.

But I sure as hell wanted to try. I _did_ try. To my best abilities.

Looking back, most people would have said that, yes, there is a small chance I deserved my fate, I deserved to be there, dying in the middle of the highway, for what I have done. But I mean, come on, did I really? There were high points in my life… nothing notable so that a nation would bother to remember my name.

As I ignored the multiple voices that called for me, I thought to how I ended up here again. Because I didn't wear my seatbelt… though, if I gave it some thought, I decided it was the events of about two months ago that led to this. The day I seen my father again… and then one thing led to another.

Lack of a seatbelt and a father for a lunatic. The first and last worst decisions in my life that, consequently, ended it.


	2. Chapter One- Antipathy

**_Two Months Earlier_**

"One large coffee, three creams and three sugars… and a doughnut."

"Make that _two_ coffees, both the same, and two donuts as well." My father leans over to talk into the speaker, getting to 'close'. At least to me. I scrunch up my nose, though I can smell nothing but bounty and tide. Maybe a bit of cologne.

"Alright. Coming right up." The voice of whoever takes the orders was male, and he sounded reasonably bored. I glare at my father, who is sitting in the passenger side. I am driving a truck… I don't know what kind, and I don't care. I wasn't into stuff like that. I wait impatiently to move forward, since the drive thru is busy and the person ahead of us is still in line.

"Are you alright?" My father sounds concerned, worried. I glance at him, taking in his profile. He was different from the last time I seen him.

His face was etched with lines of worry. Dark brown hair with specks of grey… he was a tired looking man who had seen through some tough years. But his eyes still held some type of mischief, almost like a young boy.

"Of course I am alright." My voice is venomous, and I turn my head to look forwards again. I want to honk my horn and yell at the people ahead of me to move, so I can get the order and drive away, and then my father will talk about whatever he wants to talk about before hopefully leaving. So I can never see him. Again.

"You sure? You seem agitated." He speaks calmly, as if he really doesn't know what is wrong. But he does, he just doesn't want to ruin this moment with a possible argument like it did every other time we met.

"I'm sure." One car up ahead gets their order and drives off, so the line moves up a spot. "I'm just… hungry."

"Of course you are. I remember how, when you were a little girl, you were always eating. I couldn't take you to a grocery without walking out with fifty bags. You drove your mother nuts, cleaning plates off in record time." He laughs, as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

"Right, my mother would know. It didn't help that she didn't have _anyone_ to help her raise her kids." I bit down on my tongue, and knew it was best to just shut up. I was being cruel.

But, in a way, he started it all those years ago.

"Marshall…"

"Don't call me that."

"Summers isn't a name."

"It is. It's my name, my mother's, my brother's."

"It's a _last_ name." He sighs and shakes his head, treating me like the little girl he still thinks I am. "Marsha-….Summers, I tried, alright? I came back, didn't I?"

"You never should have left." The line moves up again, and I slowly pull the car forwards. Just one more spot and I can get my anticipated coffee.

"… I'm sorry, but things were happening, and I needed to leave."

"Bullshit. I swear, if you are talking about mob or gangster stuff, then I'm telling you to get out of the car and walk away right now." My fingers tap the steering wheel impatiently.

"I am not in any gangs, or even have anything remotely related to stuff like that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's… complicated." He turns his gaze to look forwards as well, glancing at the sky. "Damn it, the summer is so hot…"

"It's Canada, not Russia, what'd you expect?" Sighing, my foot now lightly tapped rhythmically as well.

"Still though…" his voice trails off and he frowns as if bothered by my comment, then he looks back at me. "Marshall, I am serious. Things might… change…"

"Newsflash: the world changes. People change all the time. The weather changes. Everything changes. Wait… not everything. I'm pretty sure I'm always going to hate you as much as I do now."

"Marshall…"

"Don't call me that." The line finally moves forwards, and I step on the gas. Pulling up slowly, I smile at the guy who stands at the window. We do the normal exchange of money and stuff, and he turns away to get the order. Sighing, I turn my gaze to look at some surrounding buildings when my father talks again.

"He looks familiar." I frown and look at him, and he nods at the guy who is going to hand us our order.

I honestly don't see anything special about him. Light hair, brown, maybe edging towards blond. Light skin with a bit of a tan, lean but strongly built. For some reason his hair irritated me. Shorter in the back, reaching near his chin in the front. Parted as well, it was straight and shiny looking. I frown, and then look back at my father who shrugs.

"Do you know him?" I stare at my father when he asks the question.

"Why the hell would I know him?" Shaking my head, irritated more, I turn back to the window. The guy now turns back towards us, leaning out to hand me the order. I take it slowly, glancing at his name tag.

"Thank you… _Frediano Martini?_" I stifle a laugh. "Is that really your name?"

"Marshall…" My father reprimands, but as soon as I bring up the guy's name he literally pales.

"Um… yes… that is my name." He nods as though he is trying to convince himself as well as us, but then breaks into an easy smile. "Have a nice day."

I take his choice of words, and his tone, are signaling us to leave. The way he changed from when I drove up to when I mentioned his name changed. He looked… on guard for something. I stare at him, recognizing the voice but not being able to place were I heard it, but I just nod and say thanks.

Driving away, I place my coffee in the cup holder and leave the doughnut in the bag. My father eats and sips noisily, enjoying himself.

"… That was a bit rude."

"I was being honest. Who the hell has a name like _Frediano_? "

"He looked familiar."

"You may have mentioned that once or twice." I sigh, wincing slightly at the over use of my sarcasm. My father sighs as well with exasperation.

"I was just stating my thoughts. Did you want to go to my house? I still live in the same place, we could talk and have coffee there and-"

I glance at him, glaring slightly. Some talking and some coffee wasn't going to make me forgive him right away. I drive down Main Street, pressing hard on the gas before suddenly pulling over. "I need you to get out."

He stares in disbelief. "Why?"

"This place isn't far from your place. You can walk home. I need to leave soon; I don't want to be driving to Saskatchewan in the dark."

"Why are you going there?" Horror crosses his face, as if he can't believe I am actually going to be moving. But he knows the type of person I am, so he slowly starts to undo his seat-belt. Unwillingly, he unlocks the door, his gaze fixed on my face.

"I'm moving into mom's old cottage. I'm living there. I need to get there soon… I left the cat there with a whole bunch of food, but still…" I sigh, and look at my father with a bit of pity. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. But, Marshmallow, promise me one thing." I blink when he uses the name that my parents and brother called me when I was a little kid.

"Alright…" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Be careful. Seriously. Something might happen… something might come." He smiles slowly, and moves forwards as if to embrace me in one last hug, but then thinks better of it and stops himself. "I'll see you around."

He turns and walks away, leaving his coffee behind. My heart aches a bit, but I shove it down with hatred. My mind barely thinks over his warning as I drive away towards my new home.

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**Any mistakes I made? Let me know! Help is always appreciated.**


	3. Chapter Two- Inaugurate

**Alright… thanks to anyone actually reading this!**

**On a side-note, I received a review that was bothered by Marshall's innuendo that Russia is supposedly cold. No, Marshall wasn't being sarcastic… however, I had originally intended to make her a prejudiced/ slightly racist person who sometimes believes in stereotypes… So sorry about that! And another sorry for the future for what she may say/ possibly do. So, with that being said, you have been told!**

**Any mistakes? Especially grammar/spelling mistakes? Let me know!**

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It happened on the road.

I was cruising along, wanting nothing more than to reach my destination all the way in damn Saskatchewan… when I got a message on my phone. Given that I was on a highway, it would be smart _not_ to answer it. So, of course, I didn't.

At least not at first. But I'd been driving for three hours, and some old couple up ahead were going _sooo_ slow, though I had honked multiple times, so I was getting irritated.

_Very_ irritated.

At the fifth call, I checked it. It wasn't from anyone, it was just a word; MATERIALIZATION?

Of course, I tossed my phone back down on the passenger seat, but then that damn beeping started up _again_, and now someone behind me was honking because of the people in front of us. I glanced in my mirror, wanting to get out from behind these people, but the next lane wasn't free. _Beep beep beep._ The phone just wouldn't give up.

"Kill me now… kill me now… kill me now…" I drummed my hands on the steering wheel, and when the lane was _finally_ free… the people behind me jumped right into it. They gave _me_ the middle finger as they drove off, and so I honked my horn again. "Kill me… Just kill me…"

_Beep beep beep._ The phone kept going, so I randomly clicked the screen, hoping to stop it. _Damn it, could it get any worse._

_BANG!_ I didn't even see it coming. For a moment, I thought it was the people ahead of me, since the impact was so hard. I clutched onto the steering wheel while jamming the breaks, the seatbelt digging painfully into my chest and shoulder, and I struggled to gasp for air as it was knocked out of me. My foot stayed on the break, and the sound of tires screeching to a stop filled my ears.

_Those idiots…_ still thinking it was the other car, I glance down and around, moving and squirming, trying to figure out if I broke anything.

Guessing I was alright, despite the pain I was in, I looked up. The front window was broken, creating a million tiny patterns all over. The roof of the engine looked as though it was dented in and crumpled, but I didn't see smoke. I glanced for my phone, but it had gone flying into the dashboard and smashed against it.

Cursing under my breath, I hesitantly got out, looking both ways before going around to the front to assess the damage, all the while wondering what I was going to say to the people in the other car.

_Idiotic, selfish bastards… oh, shit…_ in about a second, my mood went from irritated to scared. And I mean _scared…_ or maybe horror. The vehicle that had been in front of me was driving off into the distance, not stopping. And, as I stared at it, I could see that it looked pretty unscathed.

Typical, since what I had _actually _hit was a few meters ahead.

I approached the man cautiously. I wasn't an expert on people who get hit by cars, so I wasn't sure what to do. Tall, blonde, dressed in black, he was just sort of… lying there. Not moving. Which scared me even more.

"…Mister…?" I walk cautiously up to him, nudging him with my foot. "Mister?"

Nothing happened. He didn't move, didn't answer. I started to walk back, glancing around, wondering why no one else was getting out to help, when something else occurred to me… _there was no blood._

As I said, I wasn't an expert on this stuff, but even I was sure there should be blood. I look at other vehicles, and start to randomly wave my arms, trying to get them to slow down. After a few moments, a guy pulls over behind of my wreck of a vehicle.

"What's the trouble, Ma'am?" A tall tanned guy jumps out of his van, a worried look on his face as he looks at me, then at the vehicle. "Damn, you hit something pretty hard, didn't you?"

_No shit, captain obvious._

"Yeah, I hit someone, I don't know… I need an ambulance and now probably a tow truck…"

"Got it, Miss…" He pulls out a phone and calls someplace, and from the way he speaks he's getting a tow truck. After hanging up, he looks back at me. "You seem alright, not a scratch luckily… you sure you need an ambulance? And where is the other car, surely if you hit them they would've stopped."

"It's not for me. And there wasn't another vehicle…" I am dumbfounded at this guy, and I look back to the man lying still on the road. The guy frowns and looks at my own truck.

"Is there someone else in there that is hurt? I can help." He heads over to it, and I continue to stand there looking between the two. He doesn't even look at the man lying there unconscious, and acts as if he doesn't exist.

… _I am not crazy. I am not…_

In a slight daze, I follow the guy to my truck, standing near the edge of the road as he looks over my vehicle. I glance furtively at the blonde, but I don't want to do anything.

He comes back. "There is no one else in the truck, but I guess you already knew that… you okay? You look out of it. Maybe you do need an ambulance…"

"NO!" I snap as I whip my head to look at him, and he looks surprised. "… n-no… I just want to go home…" my lip trembles, and I feel myself shaking. He looks on with sympathy.

"Of course, the tow truck should be here soon anyways." He doesn't say more, whether because he doesn't know what to say or because he knows I don't want to talk I can't be certain of. I stay on the side of the road to wait, and he walks around pacing, apparently deciding to wait with me. Chewing on my lower lip, I keep looking at the man. He _still_ hasn't moved, and I'm wondering if I should do something. No one else has stopped to check on him…

"Hey, you there." I jump at the voice. I was so deep in thought I hadn't seen the man approach me. "You needed help?"

"Yeah… that's my truck." I point to it, and he quickly goes to hook it up to his own truck. The other guy who has waited for me heads to his vehicle to leave.

I rub my hands together, and ask the driver of the tow truck a question. "How much is it going to cost?"

"Depends. Why, is that a problem?"

"No, of course not. Just that my place is a few hours away."

"If money ain't a problem, then it's no problem." When he has everything done, and has the paper work filled out, he jumps in, and I get into his truck besides him, and he drives away. I wince as we move forward, since that guy is still lying there, but he turns into the next lane, narrowly avoiding the man. I glance in the side mirror to see he is alright. Well, not alright… just not run over.

"You alright, girl?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." I focus my gaze on the road ahead, not wanting to know what I have just done. I just left a person I hit in the middle of the road… I mean, I _did_ hit them, my own car was dented…

_But no one else did anything, or even saw him._ I reasoned for a logical explanation for this, but decided that there just simply _wasn't_, I pushed it out of my mind.

_I wonder how much trouble I'm in._


	4. Chapter Three- Fabricate

**Alright! I said before that the POV may change, and it has! It is in third person, and will be for the foreseeable future.**

**However, if I tell you which person that this chapter is following now, that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it?**

**Then again, in about 7 seconds you will find out who is in this chapter… so whatever!**

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"Frediano Martini…" He managed a slight smile as he looked at the name tag. Shaking his head, Leon tossed the tag onto his bedroom floor, and then pulled the dark t-shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor as well. He changed into a comfortable pair of black pants and a grey long-sleeved shirt, pausing for the briefest second to inhale the clean scent. Given everything he had been through, he just wanted to stop for a moment to relax, enjoy life.

You think he would've been used to all of this already, seeing as he had already been here in this place for 8 months.

And he'd been working at MacDonald's for 4 months.

Yes, the great Leon S. Kennedy had been working at Macdonald's in order to support himself. Him, a man who had fought off zombies and psychotic power-crazy bastards, now served every day customers, the majority of them being middle-aged over-weight men.

Not that he minded. In fact, he was lucky to get a job, get a place. Lucky to track down a random person who'd be willing to forge fake certificates and such for him.

Most of all, he couldn't help but wonder… was he even lucky for being here? He looked all over the news, through documents, all over the internet… and didn't find Raccoon City.

At least, not a _real_ Raccoon City.

Feeling a bit distressed, he tried not to think of anything like that. He couldn't. He _was_ lucky, right? Lucky that he was alive, in a way…

But given that his entire life was a game meant for entertainment, in books, on movies, he wasn't exactly happy.

But then there was another urgent question… was it even _his_ life? Was he Leon S. Kennedy? For all he knew, he was just some crazy person who thought that he was that man, became obsessed with that idea. Or maybe he _was_ Leon, but he had gone nuts, and he was currently in a mental hospital somewhere. Maybe this was all a dream… this world that wasn't completely perfect, yet perfect enough to keep him happy.

_Keep me happy?_ Could it really? He felt as though he wanted to see his friend Chris again. And as aggravating and tedious as Ada could sometimes be, he still longed to see her, hold her, talk to her.

_But what's the point in thinking all of this now?_ He now had a life, he supposed. Yes, a life. It wasn't exactly the best, but it beat trying to fight for his life every other minute. He was now '_Frediano Martini',_ as terrible as the name was. It wasn't his choice, the person who forged his ID thought it as a joke. Whatever. He was now a man who worked terrible shifts while struggling to maintain a calm lifestyle.

But not matter how much he lied to himself that he was happy here, he couldn't keep away the nightmares.

He couldn't fall asleep at night.

He couldn't help the reactions he had in everyday situations, like when he heard a yell, or seen someone running.

It had become a habit to stay alert, stay on his feet.

Sometimes an annoying habit at that.

_Calm down, Leon, just stay calm._ He took some deep breaths before heading to the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water. He just needed to get through the rest of the day, go to bed, wake up tomorrow, get through the next day, and repeat the cycle over and over again.

… _I wish Chris were here._

_I wish Jill was here._

_I wish Ada was here._

_I wish Claire was here_

_Hell, at this point, even if Sadler or Wesker showed up, I might be relieved. At least it'd prove that my entire life wasn't a lie._

A part of him was desperate to see someone, anyone. He didn't care who. He just needed to know what world he really belonged to.

This world, or the fictional world that had become a famous series for the past years.

A part of it made him sick. Sure, he could understand it was for entertainment, but it was horrible, it made him _angry_ that it was a game to some people. Just a game, nothing more. He thought about the title of the series. _Resident Evil._ Yes, just a game to some, nothing more. If a person died, they could always _start over_; they had a second chance, a third chance, a billion chances! And yet, every time he fought for his own life, every time he fought for someone else's life, he had _only one chance! Only one chance to make everything right!_

_Calm down, Leon._ He placed the water on a counter before heading to the living room, settling onto the couch. It had become a routine that his emotions and thoughts would get out of check. Not simply from the years he _thought_ he was Leon, but from all… this. This new lifestyle.

But no matter how much he fitted in here, he always felt like Leon.

He had decided a while ago that deep down, he'd stay Leon S. Kennedy, whether he really was him, or he was just a psychotic idiot.

He grabbed the remote, flipping through channels, stopping on one that seemed to be about the news.

"-tomorrow will be a forecast of thunderstorms, which will go into Wednesday and Thursday. In other news, the new game, Resident Evil 7_-"_

"Oh, for fuck's sakes." Leon quickly turned off the TV, and moved to lie on his side. His apartment was silent, with occasional noises being heard from multiple neighbors. Leon turned to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling, wondering if he should even try to make friends.

_Why bother? Maybe I'll wake up in another strange place, and find that THIS entire life has been a lie._ Leon tried to get more comfortable, torn between wanting to stay awake or go to sleep. _Yes, wake up somewhere else. Hey, who knows, maybe I'll be an alien? Maybe they will have some sort of archive about a crazy man named Frediano who thought he was another man named Leon. _

His thoughts were getting jumbled as he started to drift off, his eyes fluttering shut. _I should at least make friends. Hiding out in here can be rather boring…_

The thought of friends scared him. While the most obvious reason he was worried would be concerning the problem that he didn't even know what was wrong with him, there was the other thought that people might recognize him. It happened so many times, where he was walking down the street and someone stopped him, asked him if they knew him. He even had a teenager ask him if he was a cos-player.

_A cos-player? Why on Earth would I be a cos-player?_ But it wasn't just like he could announce to the whole world that he really was Leon.

_Why does it matter anyways? Maybe someday, I'll actually die. Wouldn't that be a blast?_ His thoughts became more erratic and random before he finally fell into a disturbed sleep.

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**Alright! Finally, another main character! **

**Any spelling or grammar mistakes? Let me know! Want to see more of Leon? Let me know! Any guesses on what the hell is happening? Well, just review that shit straight up! **

**And if you just took the time to read this? Well… you are AWESOME!**


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